


The Pine Barrens

by Arsenic



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-26
Updated: 2008-02-26
Packaged: 2020-12-16 04:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21030176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Written for lovebashed's Give Frank a Hug Meme.





	The Pine Barrens

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if Bob was still on the bus at the point where Frank left the tour and came back, but let's just say he was.

The thing was, foolish or not, somewhere in the back of his mind, Frank really had believed that his grandmother was going to live forever. At the very least, she had certainly been going to live until he was ready for her to die. Frank wasn't sure when this mythical time would have occurred. Maybe when he was 92, and couldn't remember who anyone was anyway. In any case, her time certainly hadn't been when Frank was in his mid-twenties. Except that evidently, it was.

Frank had put [wild orange milkwort from the pine barrens](http://www.hoganphoto.com/Orange_Milkwort.jpg) on her grave after they'd shoveled the last mound of dirt. She had said they reminded her of the sun and orange juice and other brightly colored, happy things. She had said they reminded her of Frank.

His first morning back on the bus after the funeral, Frank was up earlier than anybody else. This was unusual, Bob or Ray generally beat him, but Frank couldn't sleep. It wasn't even energy that drove him out of bed, it was just the need to be somewhere where he could see the sun, remind himself that new days were good things. He put on a pot of coffee and curled up at the table, next to the window.

Ray found him there and said, "Hey, you want a cup of this?"

Frank startled and looked around. The coffee was done. "Oh. Yeah, I-- Thanks."

Ray nodded and poured them each a large mug. He reached in the mini-fridge and pulled out a full-sized bottle of Hershey's syrup. He showed the front to Frank. There was a label pasted on with the words. "For Frank. Don't touch, fuckers."

The handwriting was Mikey's, but Gerard had drawn a feral unicorn, just to make the point clear. Ray nodded and dropped a good four tablespoons of the stuff into Frank's coffee, then another one into his. "Don't tell, yeah?"

Frank shook his head and took his coffee from Ray. He managed a thin smile for him. He expected Ray to take the other side of the table or possibly even head to the back lounge to work on the writing Frank knew he was doing, but Ray just scooted in right next to Frank, wrapped one arm around his shoulders and let Frank settle his head against his shoulder. Frank fitted himself tightly to Ray, so tightly that he couldn't reasonably drink his coffee. But Ray was warm, and the breath that flowed evenly in and out over Frank's head smelled of coffee and for the moment, that was really what Frank needed. Ray dropped his hand, rubbed at Frank's back a little, and if Ray noticed that Frank was getting his neck and the collar of his t-shirt wet, he didn't feel the need to mention it.

*

Bob got up about an hour later and stared at both of them groggily until the word, "'morning," or something closely related to it, came out of his mouth. He poured himself some coffee and glared when Ray had the audacity to ask if he'd taken his painkillers yet. Frank was glad Ray had asked. For once, he just wasn't that interested in pissing Bob off, not even through the therapeutic method of pestering him until he tried to kill Frank. Bob nodded. "They just haven't kicked in yet."

Ray reached out the hand that wasn't busy holding Frank together and squeezed gently at one of Bob's forearms. Bob gave him a half-smile and downed the rest of his coffee. "Shit makes me drowsy."

Frank could have stood to be drowsy. He was exhausted, wiped, kicked to the fucking floor, but he wasn't drowsy. Drowsy had a nice ring to it, like the oblivious silliness that came with painkillers. He knew Bob hated it, knew that normally, Frank would have abhorred even the idea, but right now, it sounded a little welcoming. Ray was saying something, asking Frank what he thought about it. Frank said, "Huh?"

Ray didn't laugh at him. "I asked if you thought Bob taking you in the back, seeing if the two of you could get some sleep, would be a good idea?"

"Oh." Frank didn't exactly realize that wasn't an answer. It sounded wrong somehow, he just couldn't figure out _how_."

"I'll keep the Wonder Twins from waking you," Ray promised.

"Okay," Frank said, which was evidently agreement, since Ray got him to his feet and ushered him to the back of the bus. Bob was there shortly, lying down on the couch, pulling Frank onto him, his wrists wrapped safely over Frank's back. Frank said, quietly, "You never just let me do this."

Bob ran a hand over the back of Frank's head, soothingly. "I wish I didn't need to now."

Frank tried to roll away, "I can--"

"Not like that, Frank." Bob held on tight. Frank wasn't going anywhere.

Frank thought about it. "Oh. Yeah, me too."

*

When he woke up the world sounded a little less like white noise. His head hurt and his throat was dry. Frank didn't remember getting drunk, but maybe he had. He opened his eyes to see Gerard sitting pretzel-style on the floor. He had a pad open and a mechanical pencil in his right hand, but he wasn't writing or drawing, just watching Frank and Bob sleep. When he saw Frank looking at him, he put a finger to his lips and said, "Don't tell Ray. I'm not supposed to be in here."

Frank blinked his acquiesence. Gerard got a worried look on his face. "Did I wake you? I was trying not to wake you."

Frank shook his head as much as he could, still being pressed to Bob's chest. No matter how intently Gerard had been staring, Frank was fairly certain that wasn't what had woken him. Gerard smiled. It was a bit unsure, but it was a smile. He got to his feet and helped untangle Frank as gently as he could manage. Bob slept straight through. It was disconcerting, even if Frank knew it was the drugs. They padded quietly from the lounge together, to the coffee. Gerard said, "I could make a fresh pot."

Frank said, "Yeah, please," and grabbed a water from the fridge, to see if that would help his head. It was, at the very least, soothing to his throat. Frank wasn't even sure why his throat hurt. It felt like he'd been screaming, only he knew he hadn't. But then, Frank wasn't entirely sure why _everything_ didn't hurt, it felt like it should, so he didn't pursue the inquiry too far.

"Here," Gerard said, and pushed Frank into the nearest seat. He stood in front of him and drove his fingers into Frank's hair. At first Frank was confused, but Gerard was often confusing, so he just went with it, just let Gerard have his way. It paid off quickly enough when he realized that Gerard was massaging at his temples, his skull. He somehow managed to find all the spots where the worst of the pain had wound itself up, congregated and was holding court. Frank whimpered as Gerard dug into the most agonizing holds of his grief and somehow forced them to loosen, to let at least the physical part of it quiet down.

Frank was sobbing silently by the time Gerard had finished. Gerard looked cautiously pleased, and Frank understood. For all that Gerard could come off as not knowing how to save two dollars--let alone lives--he was actually pretty good at doing his research, coming up with plans to make things better. Frank understood Gerard's metaphors: it wasn't about actually saving, it was about making it safe for people to save themselves. Frank leaned his head a little bit and Gerard caught it with his hand, his open palm.

Frank said, "Better. Thanks."

Gerard just made sure not to let Frank's head drop.

*

Mikey found him before the show. He sat Frank down and adjusted Frank's guitar strap. Frank had been trying for an hour. Matt was kind of bigger than Frank. Usually things like this weren't a problem, but Frank was having trouble concentrating on given tasks. He wasn't really sure how the show was going to go, if he was perfectly honest. Mikey finished the job and put it on Frank while saying, "When Elena died," and Frank had to keep himself from jerking in response, because Mikey didn't talk about that stuff, not ever. Gerard, sure, but Mikey hadn't spoken at all for seven days after her death and when he'd begun to speak again, it had been to ask where all the cereal had gone. That was just Mikey. He was quiet about his own shit. Mikey continued, "When she died, I stopped believing. In everything. Even Gee, I think, for a bit."

Frank nodded.

"It was just--" Now that he'd gotten it settled, Mikey was stroking at the guitar strap compulsively. "She was the one who taught us those things, who brought that sort of magic into our lives."

Frank didn't move for fear that Mikey would stop talking. He couldn't even have said why it was so important that he hear this. It just was. Mikey took his hands back to himself, tucked a hair behind his ear. "Only I realized, right, that if I stopped believing that it was like, it was like she'd never even been around. Like everything she had done was worthless. And that was a shitty thing for me to do to her, you know?"

Frank said, "You're an awesome believer, Mikey Way."

Mikey smiled. "I know. It keeps her with me. You have to find that thing. And wait it out until the strength of it doesn't cut you to ribbons just by looking at it."

Frank thought of the stories his grandmother had told him to get him over his fear of the monster under the bed when he was five, the way she'd taught him to catch fireflies and the first time she had let him drink coffee, unbeknownst to anyone else. Mikey stood up and kissed Frank's forehead. "You'll find it."

Frank grabbed Mikey's wrist. Mikey looked at the hand and then sat back down, his knees brushing lightly against Frank's.


End file.
